


Only one that matters

by SPCMRose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Derek Hale Feels, Emotional Constipation, Fluff, Follows canon but with changes because Stiles grew up a mind reader, Gonna be a lot of fluff with sterek feels, Hurt Derek, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Reading, Psychic Stiles Stilinski, Stiles tries to make Derek feel better, Telepathy, Thought Projection, it works... eventually, mental bond, mind reader stiles, soul mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4718066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPCMRose/pseuds/SPCMRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A werewolf and a mind reader walk into the woods...<br/><em>It wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice anyway, the werewolf had growled at him until he’d resigned himself to just ‘go with the flow’. He’d never been more glad that his dad was going to work a double so it meant he probably wouldn’t notice Stiles was missing ‘cause he’d already gone back out to work when Stiles had played ‘let’s scale down a tree and try not to break my spine’ with Derek Hale- The man who was currently leading him to his doom.</em></p><p>Canon AU where Stiles is a mind-reader.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It was during late winter when the air had a crisp chill to it, moon seeming to always be full no matter whether it was waning or cresting, which seemed to be poetic 'cause his dad had always said full-moons brought out the crazy in people. Stiles was being babysat- a word which never made any sense to him because why did babies need to be sat on? It was a question that plagued his eight year old mind- by Rudd aka the guy who spent most of the time keeping him sedentary on a box filled with case files.

That of course did nothing to hold Stiles' interest, even if the cop with the weird scar on his cheek tried to amuse him by handing him chocolate cookies every now and then, a bribe Stiles would accept until a better offer came along. The man worked at his freestanding desk, papers rustling, stapler biting out clipped rhythms. There were phones ringing every second, calls coming in constantly because it was that time of the year. Stiles found himself lost in the music of it all, more than a few times. His fingers tapped to the chaotic beat, knees bouncing up and down and eyes darting 'round across all of the faces.

The buzzing hum of their thoughts was a gentle relief from his boredom, though of course half of the things he overheard made no sense to him. Big words coming too fast, flashes blipping to life and fading away before he could understand the memory he was seeing. He was just a kid after all, and in his youthful innocence he just found all the different colours and images amusing rather than haunting.

There were emotions too, feelings he was too young to know how to block out. Once again though he just found it all tickling and intriguing, too young to understand that what he was experiencing wasn't something anyone else could ever hope to understand.

He'd learned enough to know how to listen though, and he did listen, following the thought patterns of the many voices in his head as best as he could. Someone was hungry and thinking about lunch but deeper inside they were stressing about their kid, Stiles was stuck on the thought of a good plate of the mac and cheese that his mother made. His tummy rumbles as a new line of thought trailed in through his mental ear. Bowling, the sense of family, fun. Stiles listened to the rapid series of ideas as he hopped off his cardboard box.

Squeaky sneakers on little feet on polished linoleum. He snuck his way forward, tucking his limbs to his chest. His fingers were always moving because his brain was always being filled with new stuff, distracted by others' thoughts so he'd forget about his fingers and they'd go off and do their own thing. His hair was a bit scruffy at the top, tussled from when he'd sometimes rub his too-big, too-loud head. There was a stain on the left thigh of his washed-out jeans because he'd been holding a juice box when someone's thoughts had burst to the front of his mind, startling him enough that he'd clumsily dropped his drink.

He was a little bit of a mess, really, but in an adorable and endearing kind of way. As he passed the desk Mr. Infinite-Cookies worked at he stuck his tongue out at the guy. He was a really bad babysitter and Stiles was glad to be finally ditching him. His mental process had gotten a bit side tracked by the sound of rushed mental thoughts in his head. He had been wanting to track down his dad for some food, but now he was tracking down the new voice in his mind instead.

Get away from me. You're a fucking bastard, I hate you. I wish I'd never married your scumbag ass. Please just go away. Someone take him away. Please. The voice was sounding in his brain in a way that made him cold and gave him goosebumps. He wished his mother would come over to kiss the goosebumps away and hug him tight until he was warm again. He was a brave boy though, so he crept towards the source of the thoughts and feelings and flashes of red, black and blue.

It was instinctual for him to pick up on his father's thoughts, the only voice loud and familiar enough to pierce through the words of Can't you tell it's him? Aren't you guys cops? Please. Please just get him away from me.

His father was thinking about a woman and how sorry he was for her, how crazy the townsfolk were getting with the weather they were having at that moment. Stiles followed his dad's thoughts, curious in his juvenile way. His dad felt sad so Stiles wanted to give him a hug because when he did that'd make the bad feelings go away. Stiles knew sadness. Everyone felt sadness so he'd had to figure out what it was pretty quickly. He was still working on the others, like anger and frustration, but Stiles was happy with what he'd named so far because he'd done it all on his own! His parents never seemed to understand when he had tried to explain it to them.

Like... They'd look at him funny and it made him not wanna try and explain anymore.

Stiles passed a pretty looking book on his way, it was deep red and had gold letters. He stared at it and held onto that image, focusing on it rather than the sadness he felt from his dad and the other voice. It worked for a little bit until the old voice reminded him he was hungry.

Maybe he could steal his sitters' cookie supply.

There was a big grey door followed by a big black door down a hall where the squeak of his shoes sounded louder. Stiles' fingers tapped more and his head bobbed around on his lil' neck as he pushed the grey door open with all of his might.

"Dad!" He called as his fathers mental process became louder in Stiles' ears, signifying he was close. "Daddy?"

His dad thought a bad word before turning around, looking at him with narrowed eyes that always preceded yelling. "Aw, Stiles... I thought I told Ya' to stay out." His dad came forward, knelt in front of him and thought. I'm gonna kill Rudd if Stiles sees through the glass. The only things he said aloud were, "What's up squirt?"

"Hungry," Stiles said with a pout. "Can we go home yet?" Home was nice. His head was quieter at home so he was free to think 'bout cool stuff like who would win between Godzilla and King Kong. There was also food at home, yummy food.

His dad sighed, shook his head. "Sorry kiddo, I've still got some work to finish up. Why don’t you go ask Officer. Rudd to go get you some food, okay?”

Stiles had stopped paying attention though, because his eyes had been drawn to the left, towards the source of the crying in his head, the rapid bursts of red, black blue visions in his mind. I can’t stand him touching me. Why can’t I just be brave? Why can’t I tell them that he… That _he_ was the one that attacked me. The voice was saying in his mind and finally he could match the thoughts with the person. Through the large glass window in the wall he could see a woman sitting in a chair. Stiles tilted his head, amber eyes running over her, taking in the brown spots on her skin, black spots up ‘round her eyes and the red. There was red spread through her shirt like she’d spilt some juice too and Stiles would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the other thing he saw.

There was a man with a funny black shirt and really big arms, big hands that were holding onto the woman’s. He looked wrong and made Stiles’ goosebumps double, triple and the feeling sent a shiver through his body. I can’t stand him touching me. I can’t… I _can’t_. Her voice really spooked Stiles now, and being able to see the guy in question was… scary. He turned to his dad who had followed Stiles line of sight and sighed.

I’m going to kill Rudd. “Don’t worry about her kiddo, she’s safe now, in here. We’re takin’ care of her.”

Stiles looked at the man again as he picked up on the guys thoughts. They came quickly, in a rush faster than the woman’s. He couldn’t make the words out. Stiles was thinking about red juice and black spots when he turned back to his dad. “That guy is bad. That guy is bad, he hurt her.”

He really didn’t understand why his dad seemed so confused by his words, couldn’t he hear the woman’s cries? Couldn’t he feel the man’s wrongness? “Mmm… Stiles buddy, that guy’s her wife. She was mugged and he helped her here and stopped the attackers. He’s a good bloke, okay? They’re both safe now.”

“But she isn’t!” Stiles argued, stomped his foot because his dad wasn’t getting it. He could hear his dad thinking Stiles was just being silly, but Stiles wasn’t silly! He was nearly ten! He was a big boy and he was just tryin’ to help. “That guy was the one who hurt her! He hit her and she wants you to take him away!”

He saw an image of himself flash through his dad’s mind, his big brown eyes were welling with tears, fists clenched and body taut as he argued his point. There was a sense of exasperation accompanying the image, and Stiles figured that maybe he would actually cry, ‘cause this _sucked_. “Stiles buddy, you can’t just say stuff like that. People might get into a lot of trouble.”  I wonder what’s gotten into him? He’s not normally like this. What’d Rudd say to him? “C’mon kiddo. Let’s get you some lunch, yeah?” Maybe get someone _other_ than Rudd to look after you.

But Stiles didn’t wanna go. There was a woman in there who needed help his dad just wouldn’t listen. Yeah maybe he was hungry, but he knew if someone was hitting him he’d tell his dad and his dad would take care of it, so why wasn’t his dad helping the woman? “Dad! Please!” Was all Stiles could say because he was young and didn’t have enough words, but he was trying super hard, he really was! “She’s hurting!”

“That’s enough, Stiles,” his dad finally snapped and tugged on his arm again. “You’re just gonna stir up trouble if you keep saying that kinda stuff. The poor woman’s had her money taken from her, her phone smashed in the attack. She doesn’t need to hear you accusing her husband of anything.” They left the room with the glass wall to black, red and blue, Stiles’ shoes squeaking in a long drawn out line as he dragged his feet. “C’mon kid. You wanna get some fries?” If fries don’t work then I don’t know what will.

Stiles pouted, resigning himself to go get food, even if it meant leaving the woman with the man who thought in dark swirls and muddy water. They passed the book with red and gold and Stiles’ decided he hated the color red.

That was the first time he realized that just because he knew the truth, it didn’t mean people had to believe him.

* * *

 

Un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Next chapter will be out hopefully tomorrow. Leave a comment if you want more!

It's basically going to follow canon elements but a lots going to be different because Stiles grew up being able to read thoughts. Hope you guys enjoy.


	2. Not-simply-green gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They weren’t even dating but hot damn! If they were Stiles would be the luckiest guy on earth because fuck did the guy have a nice bod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support guys! This chapter is longer than the rest will be.

Stiles was running late, and he knew he was running late ‘cause his dad was thinking it, he was thinking it, and his alarm was thinking it. Although, the alarm thought more in incessant beeps than actual thoughts, but Stiles enjoyed the poetry of it. He slipped on his leather shoes, black and boring but hey- they were as comfy as they were expensive. Then he grabbed his navy blazer and his over-the-shoulder satchel which really spent more time over his head because he found it fun to try and balance the strap on his messy, bird’s-nest hair.

His phone was the last thing to slide into his slacks, he held his keys to his jeep in his hand and followed his dad’s trail of thought as he ambled mindlessly down the stairs. Now if I can get home early enough maybe I can sneak a burger home because Stiles gets back. The carpet had been recently refurbished, so he could trollop down without much resistance, fluffy green carpet bouncy and fun under his step.

That didn’t stop him from skipping the last few steps and jumping down onto the landing. “Dad! Don’t forget I’m making zucchini casserole tonight!”

Dammit. His dad thought in response, but only shouted, “Sounds good!”

Stiles smirked to himself as he slid his arms through the way-too-baggy sleeves of his school jacket. He picked up the faint echo of someone’s thoughts next door, their breakfast consisting of crispy bacon and scrambled egg. Damn, now he was hungry, but there wasn’t any time. “Bye Dad!” He shouted as he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl in the kitchen and dashed out the front door.

“Have a good day, bud!” His dad farewelled in return. I love him even if his obsession with my cholesterol is a bit overdramatic. Hopefully today goes better for him than the past few weeks.

Stiles allowed himself a little smile at his dad’s mental musings. He whispered, “Love you too,” under his breath as he unlocked his jeep and clambered inside. The interior smelled of leather, chair soft as he settled in and rubbed his hands over the wheel. There was a cozy looking yellow ducky hanging off the rearview mirror, smelling of mint and something pinecone-y

The jeep had been in bad shape when his mom had passed it down, but Stiles had a job and that job gave him money- who knew!- and with that money he’d fixed his girl up, given her a new paint job and replaced all her parts with newer, shinier ones. Sure, she still had her list of things Stiles had to repair, but she was running like an angel on even her worst days and that’s more than Stiles could’ve hoped for.

Her engine started with a gentle purr that turned into a steady hiss as he pumped the gas and took off down the street. He came up to the intersection, took a left and thought of the times when his dad would drop him off at school. They used to take a right, but Stiles changed schools pretty soon after he started. I have some time for a coffee, a bagel. Maybe Sharron will be working- great tits, I reckon she’d give me her number if I- The thought drifted in through his mental ear and then abruptly stopped as he drove too far away to hear it anymore. Damn, Stiles groaned as he thought about a bagel. Maybe even two bagels. People needed to stop thinking about food.

He caught sight of his backpack on the passenger seat as he was checking before he merged, golden crest of Beacon Hills’ only private school standing out on the blacky-grey material. Right. It’d taken Stiles _way_ too long to get used to the idea of going to a private school, firstly because of the stereotype that everyone would be snobby and brash, and secondly because it wasn’t like he came from a lot of money, not that he held that against his dad or anything.

But money wasn’t an issue when you could read minds, apparently. In class Stiles could pick up on the teacher’s thoughts, so it wasn’t that hard to excel in school ‘cause he knew and understood the answers, having heard all the rational behind them and all that smarty-pants gibberish. Yeah so… because Stiles knew so much the only private school in Beacon hills- like seriously, it was a small town, Stiles didn’t even know they had one- decided to give him a scholarship.

One of the really cool ones at that, because it meant he got pretty much everything for free… uniform- but Stiles still doesn’t like having to wear it-, textbooks, education and all that jazz.

Thus, more money for his jeep and more money for the house and more money to buy healthy veggies for his father. Though, again, it did help that Stiles had his own job.

What was his job? Well, Stiles was officially ‘Stiles Stilinski P.I.” He was a super awesome- not so awesome- superhero that investigated stuff with his amazing brain powers!

(Really that was just a fancy way of saying he worked easy cases that never really involved any investigative work at all.)

Still, he was considering getting fancy business cards [the ones with the golden lettering and fancy font] and a gold name plaque. Then again, if he was going to get technical, no one even knew his name. He wasn’t being praised in newspapers or being blogged about online. He was a shadow, a shadow that was good at finding stuff out. A super sneaky ninja shadow- with really good hair and killer looks!

Speaking of which, he was getting a new case during his free period, so he’d have to sneak out of the school during first break at some point. Something he was _way_ too good at for a sixteen year old boy.

What? He liked to sneak away for some peace and quiet every now and then? Sure, he went to a private school so generally the thoughts were a lot more tame in comparison to public school, but all of the voices still got to him sometimes. Yeah… He still hadn’t mastered the whole ‘blocking out thoughts’ thing, but it wasn’t like he had a Yoda to teach him the ways of mind reading. Well, he supposed in this case Professor X would be more helpful, but Stiles was about 70% he wasn't a mutant. Though, if he was a mutant then he’d get a chance at meeting Wolverine and that would more than make up for the sixteen years of semi-isolation.

For real though, the guy had claws and muscles and fluffy hair and the whole husky voice thing and… Stiles was going to stop thinking about that. See, growing up with so many voices in his head, Stiles found it really hard to pinpoint how he himself felt about the world, so he just tried to avoid worrying about things like when he’d find himself fantasising about strong arms wrapping ‘round him, stubble itching him as well-practiced lips met his own and… Yup he was doing it again.

What’s up with her hair though? Maybe I should tell her she looks like a mess, what happened to her trying to impress Jackson? It didn’t help that he was pulling up to the school, hundreds of voices buzzing to life around him. Stiles could never manage to block them all out entirely, but he’d perfected the art of pretending all the thoughts were white-noise, and whilst his focus still wasn’t 100% (If someone started thinking about curly fries he was totally fucked), he managed, even if people thought he was weird.

Stiles parked his jeep near the back ‘cause one thing his scholarship did _not_ buy him was a good parking space, that was cool though, exercise was good for the body and good for the mind. And if anyone’s mind needed that extra bit of pep _his_ did. If she would just stop being a bitch then maybe I’d actually manage to get to tonight’s party on time, but now she wants to get drinks before we go? What kind of fucking shit is that? And why the fuck does my dick itch so much-

Ah… the joys of being able to read minds. Stiles didn’t even bother smiling even a bit, that was just one of the amusing yet totally awkward thoughts he’d heard in all of his years, and ‘possible STI’ didn’t even get close to the top of the list. Distracted from the burst of thoughts, Stiles had kind of forgotten to _get out of his jeep_ so he hurried to unbuckle his seatbelt, a task made difficult by his fidgety fingers.

He reigned superior over the temperamental device eventually though and he jumped from his glorious jeep and then locked it on second thought, just in time because his legs were carrying him away towards the school where he would undoubtedly gain a headache but hey, at least he got free food in there.

There was enough time for him to stop by his locker so he unceremoniously dumped his bag in there and took out what books he needed, Stiles never really wrote anything down though. Writing took concentration, a quality he severely lacked. Forgot to do my homework. Damn. Shall I blame it on work or choir practice? Voices filtered into his mind as he snuck into the classroom, taking his seat at the back, by the window. Fucking asshole, can’t believe he’d just ditch me like that and switch to algebra one, what the hell am I supposed to do now?

Stiles filtered those absent thoughts to the back of his mind and instead focused on the teacher, who was writing questions on the board. Thoughts filtered into his mind, not all of them relating to the classwork, but Stiles had long since mastered the art of keeping his mouth shut, zipped up tight and padlocked with one of those heavy-duty ones you have to buy at a hardware store.

He listened to the running commentary, opening up his mind just a wee-bit more so he could see the memories associated with the various equations and calculations. It made it way too easy for Stiles to understand what was going on, so he settled in for the long haul.

School went as well as it usually did. There were the normal horny and annoying thoughts, all of which made Stiles’ skull pound painfully. Break was good though, he got a big scoop of spaghetti and some tater tots on the side. Everyone knew tater tots made life at least 30% better. Then when finally second break came he was more than ready to GTFO. He snatched his bag from the locker and whatever else he needed- couldn’t forget his awesome batman pen with added laser pointer for when he wanted to be that _extra_ bit annoying.

Only… He stopped. Lunch had begun only a few minutes earlier, but the halls were pretty much deserted already and so Stiles was left alone, in front of his locker. To add to the whole ‘Breakfast Clubiness’ of it all, the light above him was flickering on and off, as though it was just too done to give a damn about working anymore.

Stiles would’ve shot it if his dad had’ve loaned him his gun. “Stupid busted bulbs,” Stiles grumbled as he predictably started spiraling into the ‘angst’ phase of his day. ‘Cause of course he couldn’t get through a day without his daily bout of angst to keep away the unicorns and rainbows. The periodic bursts of darkness were left behind as he snuck towards the back exit.

Huh. This kid supposed to be heading out? Maybe he’s one of Lee’s boys. He doesn’t look like he’s going out for the excursion though... Stiles just heard the thought before someone called out to him. “Hey. Where d’you think you’re going, boy?”

He shrugged, flashed a calm smile towards the teacher who’d approached him. He was a tall, gangly man with grey stubble and bug-like eyes. “Just gonna catch up to Mr. Lee, going on an excursion to…” Hmm, could’ve sworn he didn’t seem like the type to do gym as an elective but I guess he _is_ going out to the rec center with- “..The recreation center, down by Berkley.”

Stiles had gotten _way_ too good at lying the past few years, normally he’d be a stuttering mess even with the help of people’s thoughts, but since he’d started his job he’d been thinking up lies faster than Clint Eastwood could sling a gun.

It was about confidence and Stiles had found knowing what people thought of you really helped his good ol’ ‘I’m-a-badass’ meter.

When he’d mastered the art of ‘prompting’ people, mentioning things in a subtle way that re-directed their thoughts, that certainly kicked things up a notch. Thoughts came almost instantaneously, so if he ever had weird pauses when he was talking they were never long enough to draw concern.

“Oh. Right then. Did you sign out?”

Stiles nodded, he tucked his hand into his backpack pulling out the first random bit of paper he reached. “Right here.” He waved it in the air like he just did not care for a sec, waiting for the guy to stop his mental suspicion and then tucked it back into his bag.

“Mhmm, well sounds good. Go ahead, and tell Lee he needs to organise his kids better.” The bearded hall-dragon gave him a nod and then headed off. Weird kid. Glad he isn’t in any of my classes, don’t think I could deal with him if he was.

Stiles listened to the grouchy troll and stuck out his tongue, allowing himself a metaphorical pat on the back before dashing out the door.

Like he said, he was a super sneaky stealth ninja that had a plastic baggy of tater tots in his pocket for later. What? He was hungry.

He drove to the library, one hand on the steering wheel, other hand busy trying to get his hair into some discernible order. It was a lost cause, really, his hair hated him as much as he hated it. _Stupid hair_ , he thought with maybe just a bit of bitterness. Maybe he should just shave it all off, get a buzz-cut.

But then he’d have no hair to grab onto when he had a headache and that just seemed… wrong.

Resigned that his hair was never going to achieve that ‘Zac Efron’ look, probably styled for eighty consecutive hours but looked like he’d just woken up with it. Meh, all he had to work with was his fickle fingers. He pulled into the parking lot, leaving his bag behind and just bringing his ‘secret spy phone’- really it was just a burner phone- with him. With a flick of his finger his phone unlocked and he double checked the time he was supposed to be meeting his new client.

The library had the same old feel to it, all the minds holding a familiar tired buzz that came with hours of hard-brain-exercising. Thoughts were always more quiet when people were busy concentrating, and it was the ‘work the students to death’ time of the year, so pretty much everyone in there was studying.

He’d taken off his blazer on the way, replacing it with a dull, worn red hoodie. He placed in ear buds but didn’t plug them in, and then went to the back corner and sat himself against a shelf in the archived comic books section, cause as much as he hated sitting by a shelf of untouched Flash comics- Comic books were a dying art in Beacon Hills so it was normally pretty quiet.

Perfect place for business.

Stiles listened to the minds around him to keep himself busy and pulled up his hoodie. If anyone came looking for him he’d hear their intent and skedaddle, because sometimes possible clients got curious who was behind the mask, or in his case, the library shelf.

His client was certainly taking their sweet time. Stiles had picked up on a few fresh people ambling into the holy-gospel of books, but none of them were there for him. Stiles grew bored at some point and reached behind him to snag a copy of The Simpsons.

The message said to meet out by the… comic books? I hope this will work out, I could’ve been spending this time tracking down that lead on that teacher. But I guess some help would be good. The thoughts drifted into his mind and he stifled a sigh, rude of them to interrupt his reading of Bart as the kid was about to call Moe’s tavern and- Shit.

His new client was walking down the wrong aisle. Stiles listened in closer to the… woman’s, yeah it was a woman. He dug deeper into her thoughts so he could see flashes of what she was seeing. Yup, definitely going down the wrong aisle. She was going to spot him soon enough. He put away the comic- _don’t worry I’ll come back for you one day bb_ \- and hurried to the other side of the shelf.

Stiles saw himself through her eye, just a flash of red when she walked around the corner, nothing discernable. Hell yeah, did he mention he was a ninja? “Hello?” She called and Stiles made sure he was seated in a casual enough position, just in case. “I’m here for… Miguel?”

That was his cue. Stiles channeled his inner wizard of Oz- with the deep ominous voice and everything- and responded as he heard her stop at the other side of the comics. “Please, take a seat.” _Mr. Bond_ , Stiles added in his head for dramatic flair.

Thought I heard someone, the woman thought and then something weird happened. Stiles hadn’t picked up on it earlier, because he hadn’t been trying to connect to her so diligently, but now he noticed it in an instant. Whoever this lady was… she could smell him, hear his heartbeat. Stiles was more than freaked, because he could taste it, taste himself in his mouth the same way she was tasting his scent, trying to put a name to it.

Okay so maybe this wouldn’t just be another boring case where he had to figure out if a husband was having an affair, there was something _more_ going on here, and it piqued Stiles’ interest. That fact made him a little edgy, because he hadn’t been interested in anything for a long time. “I’m sitting.” His client confirmed and drew him from his musings. “So how do we start?”

“You got somewhere better to be?” Stiles asked, not able to hold back a bit of sass. Flashes blurred through his mind, memories of hers that contained screams and flames and- Stiles decided he wasn’t going to pry anymore. Whatever her issue was… it was big, maybe out of his league but hell, Stiles was up for the challenge.

“Depends on whether you can help me.”

Hmm. Stiles found himself liking this chick. She had… _spunk_. Stiles decided she’d passed his ‘interview’ and began the formalities. “I can. First, twenty bucks is my starting fee, the rest on delivery.”

Sounds confident, there was a pause and as Stiles listened in he heard a thump-thump-thump… was that his heart? Not lying. Alright then. “Where do I put it?”

“On top of the Flash comics. Wolverine can’t be trusted with my cash.”

A mental chuckle sounded in her mind, but she remained quiet as slowly the money was slid through the gap. He took it and then stuffed it in his pocket. Her intentions seemed pretty clear from what he could garner in her thoughts, she seemed like she just genuinely wanted help. “Cool. So what can I do for you?”

It’s weird hearing her thoughts because they’re jumpy and scattered.. like she’s leaving gaps in her thoughts on purpose. He’d never experienced it before, thought it kind of reminded him when people were trying to keep secrets, but the secret always slipped through to him eventually. Her secret was sealed tight though, and Stiles had met his fair share of secret-keepers, so he knew whatever her secret was… it must’ve been life-changing.

“I hear you’re good at following leads or tracking things down. I’m trying to find information about a fire that happened in two-thousand-and-five. Last thing I found out was that maybe a chemistry teacher named Adrian Harris had something to do with it.”

Huh, a chemistry teacher? Well she wasn’t lying, and if her information was wrong he’d be able to find out pretty quickly. There was something that made him hesitate though, because as she spoke the same memories came to surface in the woman’s mind- Laura Hale, he’d learned from her rapid fire thoughts- and shit, Stiles knew all about the Hale’s. His dad was the sheriff, after all, and as the sheriff’s son he made it his duty to know all about the cases going on in Beacon Hill’s. It might also be because he could read his dad minds, but tom-a-to, tom-ah-to.

The gravity of the case wasn’t lost to him. He’d done a little digging when he was younger- ten at the time it had happened- but hadn’t got very far because he had just been a wee little thing. He knew the result of that fire, and now Laura, one of the friggin’ _Hale’s_ wanted his help?

It was... It was… This was a bad idea it’s probably just some kid pranking me. He certainly sounds like a kid with that fake voice, Jesus.

Stiles breathed a deep sigh, trying to get his wandering brain to focus.

“Good. I can work off of that.” He had a great power and now he finally had his great responsibility. “I won’t let you down,” he told her in a very boy-kid-wonder type fashion.

Her thoughts had given him everything he needed, where the teacher worked, why he was important- he might’ve started the fire, the bastard- and that Laura Hale was someone he could trust, someone who was _at their core_... good.

“Is that it?” She asked, tone part stunned and part incredulous.

“Yup,” Stiles replied, popping the ‘p’ like usual. Going by her thoughts, she wanted this info as soon as it was ready. “Let’s say we meet back here, same time tomorrow?”

Laura was sceptical that he’d get the work done in time, but once again she remained professional and didn’t voice her the kid’s as crazy as a fruit loop, but it’s only $20. “Tomorrow,” she agreed and then got up to leave.

Stiles risked a glance though, he had to know what she looked like, had to _see_ the woman who was so _strange_.

When he looked around the corner though, out into the aisle… She was gone.

Okay, maybe Stiles could be super sneaky, but **no one** could be _that_ sneaky.

His sleuthing afternoon started off by trying to track down Harris, which was pretty easy because he just had to go to the right school and find which class he was teaching, because it was still school hours. As he was walking through the halls of Beacon Hills High School, his old school he hadn’t been to for _sooooo_ long, he bumped into someone. That really weirded Stiles out, because he _never_ bumped into _anyone_ given the whole ‘able to read minds’ thing.  
“Oh man I’m sorry dude,” Stiles apologized and awkwardly patted the other boys shoulder, finally picking up on his quiet thoughts. The kid was worrying about… Lacrosse? Huh. Weird sport.

The other teen shrugged. “That’s fine man.”

And Stiles was surprised to hear the thought resonate within the kids mind. Could it be? Someone who was so pure and gentle in their thoughts that what they spoke was what he also read from their mind? See, Stiles had come to learn that there were four layers to the mind. The first, and deepest layer was at someone’s core, and that contained their instinctual reaction to stimuli. Then the second was the layer that revolved around emotions. Stiles wasn’t so good at reading emotions, because they tended to overwhelm him.

When he was younger it’d been so much easier to read minds because he never truly understood what he was experiencing, so nothing really got to him. So now he just stuck to the two surface layers most of the time.The third was the layer that connected what they were experiencing to memories or other senses like smells and sounds. That was what he tapped into for his clients, because hey, he needed the information somehow.

Then the surface layer, the last line of defence against blurting comments or spilling secrets. That’s the one that he could never really block out. Those were the thoughts he was always picking up on unless he was on his afternoon walk in the forest where everything was blissfully quiet.

So to hear such… genuine thoughts coming from the boy really shocked him, because most of the time people were thinking at least one bitchy thing like ‘people need to watch where they're going’.

“Right. Uh, have a good day,” Stiles said when he realised he hadn’t talked for a while.

Zoning out was kind of his thing.

You too, the kid thought, but Stiles figured he forgot to say it out loud, because he walked off without another word.

Stiles watched the shaggy-haired kid disappear into one of the classrooms with a tight feeling in his chest.

There wasn’t time for another angst session though so he hurried on towards the office.

It was busy in the small, cluttered room. Stiles grinned as he realised how perfect the situation was. He snuck forward towards the desk and leaned casually against it, out of the way but still within talking distance. He focused on the woman behind the counter, dug deep enough to _see_ and then very randomly blurted, “Harris.”

Asshole. Get’s way too many complaints I hope they sack him soon.Thoughts and images spilled into her mind automatically, and Stiles soaked them up with a smug feeling in his chest. A flash of the man’s schedule was just what he needed to see, and he turned and left the office ignoring the woman’s words of “What was that, dearie?”

Now he just had to find the right room.

It was like walking through a minefield. If he listened in on the wrong mind for too long then he’d be hit with a Gonna fuck her raw tonight. Take her out in my dad’s convertible and up to the hill bomb. Stiles moved quickly and as soon as he spotted the right number he checked to see if the room was empty (it was, Harris had a free period) then dashed inside.

Anonymity was his best friend, so he grabbed a random book and opened it in front of his face, then he walked right up to the unsuspecting teacher as he marked homework like the scarecrow only… not scary. “Hale house fire.”

The reaction was immediate. They can’t find out I was an accomplice, it would end my teaching career. I just talked, it wasn't my fault it was before I’d gotten sober. They can’t know, she was just so interested and it wasn’t like I could resist that. A flash of blonde hair, a lady smiling, her bust, shining as a necklace dangled over it. There was a symbol, Stiles committed the necklace to memory- it seemed important. How you could melt away the lock of a bank vault. How you could dissolve a body, and get away with murder. How you could start a fire, and get away with arson. “What did you say?” And a week later, the Hale house burns down.

It was more than enough though. The memories… the guilt surrounding his part in it all. Stiles quickly stopped prying into the man’s thoughts and then, very calmly, got the fuck out of there.

He was _so_ going to keep helping Laura with the case.

This was the most exhilarating thing he’d done in a long time.

Stiles could barely focus in school the next day. He kept doodling the necklace and its symbol over and over again in his work book. Harris’ thoughts were stuck in his head, which was just creepy in reality, but Stiles couldn’t stop going through the evening in his memory. The woman had approached him, flirted with him for information. She’s been so interested in finding out about fire and arson, and Stiles got the heebie-jeebies from her, through someone else's memories!

She was definitely the one who started the fire. He was sure of it. He had to tell Laura about the lead. The necklaces pattern was unique, and Stiles wanted desperately to hand it over to his father and solve the case with his dad… But that would be against his code as a private investigator. Maybe when this was all over.

There was a pop quiz after first break and Stiles decided he’d rather cheat than do it himself, even if he could have if he tried. So he just listened into the kids’ thoughts around him and copied their answers. Yeah maybe he wasn’t exactly using his powers for good, necessarily, but one could argue that passing maths was a good thing, right? Eh. Semantics.

When lunch rolled ‘round he was busting to get to the library and just _spill_ all the details he found out to Laura. _His client_ , Stiles corrected himself. He needed to be more careful not to get attached.

Stiles was a lone wolf, a solo-crusader, a one man army, a hero without a sidekick, a- If Mr. Bertrand doesn’t give me an A mom’s gonna have to bribe him again and there goes my cell plan for a _month_.

Right well. Stiles had more important things to do than hang around a bunch of highschoolers so he hurried out the back door, this time not running into a troll guarding the bridge to freedom.

He may have also broken a few speed limits on the drive to the library…

He was just so damn excited. This was a big break in a six-year cold case! His dad would be so proud of him if he managed to figure this out all on his lonesome.

When he checked the time he realised he was running a few minutes late, so he bolted inside and stormed passed a lady wheeling a trolley of books, muttering a hurried apology before skidding to a stop in the comic book section.

No one was thinking nearby, and unless Laura had learnt to turn off her brain then she wasn’t there just yet. Stiles sighed in relief, glad he wasn’t late and then settled down in his spot. He checked his phone again. Agh yeah, he was barely two minutes past the meeting time.

He distracted himself with his familiar Simpsons comic book, _see told you I would come back for you baby_ , and settled in for the long haul.

Though he hadn’t expected the long haul to be forty friggin minutes long!

Stiles checked his phone to make sure she hadn’t contacted him, then sent off a text asking where she was. Forty minutes turned into fifty minutes, his foot tapping constantly against the carpeted library floor. Then when it was seven minutes past the hour and Stiles was starting to worry. Did Laura run into trouble investigating the case? Did she not believe that he actually had information? He had messaged her and let her know he’d found something…

Nearly two hours and Stiles’ headache was too painful to ignore anymore. There were too many people in the library, and clearly Laura wasn’t one of them. Stiles brushed aside his disappointment, it wasn’t the first time a client had bailed on him.

There was a time before he started working his job that he’d thought he could do more with his mind-reading ability. He’s done a stint listening in on therapy sessions to see if he could offer any help, but that’d just been a giant mess. Like… ‘Accidently playing part in the break up of not just two married couples, but one band and the parting of two small-town business partners’ kind of mess. So Stiles had left well enough alone and moved onto patrolling the town with a taser in his back pocket and listening in on the many minds Beacon Hills encompassed.

Of course that hadn’t gone well either. Stiles might’ve been able to read minds, but he didn’t have super strength or super speed so he was pretty much useless in the whole ‘crime fighting’ career.

He left the library with a tired yawn and clambered into his car. The sun was still up, and his headache still throbbed within his brain-helmet so he started the ignition and took off to his favorite place of solitude. His… Batcave. Only he’d dubbed it his Stilescave™.

It wasn’t even a cave, really. Stiles pulled up to the forest with a gentle sigh as the voices in his head started to fade away. He grabbed his phone, his real phone that had candy crush on it, and then locked the jeep as he headed into the great outdoors. Stiles tugged his jacket closer, it wasn’t cold persay, but the lack of voices always sent a chill up his spine.

He walked through the forest with a light gait he’d mastered after visiting the place so often. Stiles wouldn’t dub himself exactly _competent_ in the task of mountain hiking, but he probably could have made it through boy-scouts if his fingers were still enough to tie knots. Then again, being in a boy scouts group would have defeated the whole point of escaping into the wilderness.

Plus he would’ve looked creepy, a sixteen year old in _boy_ scouts.

As the silence finally started easing the pain in his mind, Stiles started humming to himself to fill the void. He found himself thinking about himself and his past, like he usually did when his brain volume was knocked down to barely 23 (he played COD on 360 no scope haha jk.) He was on his lonesome and it was great, because it let him think about _his_ life and not the many other lives he was unavoidably shoved into every day.

Sometimes it would get to him, knowing so many things about everyone’s lives, but he’d grown up with the burden. If his stint interning at the psych ward taught him anything, it was that he was really good at sticking to the whole ‘patient confidentiality’ thing. Even if his patients were unwilling subjects and he was their unwilling doctor.

Like, he had to listen to _everyone’s_ sob stories and he didn’t even get a bonus dental benefit!

Nor did he ever get vacation time, but his near daily trips to the forest helped with that.

When he first came here to get away from everybodies thoughts, the forest had been a spooky, scary place. Now though? It was his small bubble of safety from the crazy world outside.

Stiles had to be thankful though, at least he couldn’t read the minds of animals. That’d _suck_ ‘cause then Stiles’ might’ve had to give up meat and then oh God what if he heard plants thoughts? Bye bye curly fries.

I’ll kill whoever did this. Laura, I’ll make this right, I promise. I’m so sorry. Speaking of not hearing animal thoughts. Who the hell was this far out in the woods at this time? Stiles couldn’t help but be drawn towards the distant thoughts that were echoing in his brain. It seemed he’d be working overtime if the ebbs of grief coming from his new circumstantial client were anything to go by.

It was really freaking weird too, This is all my fault. I should’ve come back with you. Because the voice was fading in and out but even at this distance Stiles shouldn’t have been able to hear the thoughts in the first place! _Flashes of blood and lifeless eyes and waves of sadness and pain._ His mind’s intruder wasn’t even within his line of sight!

Stiles knew the range to his mind-reading whatcha-majiggy and it only stretched about as far as he could see (a radius that had grown with age), but he couldn’t see anyone other than a squirrel that was darting up a tree. Damn, could he suddenly hear animal’s thoughts? He called BS on that because he’d been trying like… 16 years to read the thoughts of the canine’s at the police department.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to come back. The thoughts were louder now, and Stiles couldn’t help but feel sorry for whoever his new thought-buddy was. Stiles had met his fair share of people who were grieving… His dad for example. That kinda thing was never fun to deal with, but whoever this was sounded like they needed a hug and on top of being a super sneaky ninja Stiles was also really good at giving hugs.

Though there were a few times he’d given someone a hug that he’d been punched for his efforts. Stiles still wasn’t good with the whole ‘personal space’ thing.

But, balls to it! If he read someone's mind and liked their thoughts then he would sure as hell give them a hug.

It took a long time for Stiles to finally see _something_ and over the span of his near-aimless wandering he’d seen more flashes of death and blood and lifeless eyes. That something was a man hunched over something that Stiles assumed contributed to the flashes of lifeless eyes and overwhelming feelings of grief and pain. He paused a fair distance away, realizing that shit this was awkward and he should totally leave the poor bloke to his grief- Stiles couldn’t have known the guy had literally just found the body!

But that didn’t matter anyway, because whoever the guy was who was out in the middle of nowhere in _his_ forest (which normally would be pretty suspicious if Stiles didn’t immediately know the guy hadn’t killed whoever was dead, because, hello! He could read thoughts) must’ve heard him or something because he looked up.

Stiles froze as thoughts, feelings and memories assaulted him as his amber eyes met a not-simply-green gaze. It was the most pain he’d ever experienced through mind-reading because he was seeing… _everything_ , all in a single instant.

What the hell? The man thought and the thought echoed in his mind like he was hearing it twice and Stiles found himself responding with a simple thought of ‘Well fuck’, because he was pretty sure they just had a moment… A psychic communication moment that was _way_ too intimate for a first date. (They weren’t even dating but hot damn! If they were Stiles would be the luckiest guy on earth because fuck did the guy have a nice bod. Stiles would be sure there’d be more on _that_ thought later but right now...)

Apparently their moment was way too intense as well, because he found his world blacking out and his body crumpling only a fraction of a second after he’d met Derek Hale’s eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistake are my own.  
> Leave a comment if you want more :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Shut up,” Derek growled. _Growled_! Like with a husky voice and eyes flashing blue and just utter macho-manliness being shown off in full force and holy shit Stiles was in _tru-uuh-ble_ because Derek's 'Derekness' was turning Stiles on like the guy was freaking naked and- Oh God, now he was thinking about Derek being naked whilst the guy was glaring at him with werewolf eyes and fists clenched which only made his biceps bulge against the constraint of his jacket and... fuck... 
> 
> Stiles just about damn-near fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support you guys, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

When Stiles woke up the first thing (or series of things) he thought was:

_..._

_…_

_…_

_Ow…_

_What the hell happened?_

_Where am I?_

_Why do I need to sneeze so bad?_

Once he’d plagued his mind with those helpful questions Stiles tried to blink his eyes open, only _that_ was a big no-no because his head protested very, very loudly against that idea. His noggin had a serious case of headicus acheius and Stiles was sure no amount of paracetamol was going to help with the current party consisting of two jackhammers, seven elephants and one random chimp that had snuck into his brain somehow.

And with that wonderful mental image Stiles found a terribly pitiful groan escaping his lips, unbidden but sneaking out anyway. His brain had never hated him this much before, not even when he went to the fair and there had been _so many voices_. It made Stiles wonder if he could survive without a brain, because he could deal with headaches but whatever was going on with his brain was about seven trillion times worse than his usual headache, and yes that was an accurate measurement of how bad it was.

Stiles was super-duper confuzzled about his situation, but then a faint voice sounded up at the back of his poor, overstuffed brain. Should probably get him a water or something. He doesn’t _smell_ sick. What was he even doing out in the woods? The questioning voice wasn’t as painful of an intrusion as he’d thought it would be, and it connected the dots enough in his mind for Stiles to realize; _Oh right. The super hot dude who’s probably secretly an underwear model or pornstar that just happened to be standing over half of the dead body of Laura Hale._ Was it wrong for Stiles to have been insanely attracted to him in those few moments their eyes had met in the forest despite the tangible sense of _death_ in the air?

He hoped not, because he was pretty sure that there was no way he could’ve not noticed how the guy had a seriously built up body, chest tone under his grey henley and his expression had only highlighted his perfect face and smooth jaw that Stiles would’ve gladly stared at for the remainder of his life and- Stiles was going to stop that train of thought because a) he wasn’t in the mood to think [even about such a beautiful specimen of ‘walking sex’] and b) the guy was right fucking _there_ and such perversed thoughts best be saved for private moments in the shower… like at least four private moments in the shower. _Long_ private moments with maybe some music blasting to hide the sounds he was going to make-

Stiles decided that he ought to stop leaving himself alone with his thoughts, like, that was stupid of him. Stiles knew how irresponsible his brain could be when left to its own devices, and so he put on his big-boy pants (he imagined a theoretical pair of Batman boxers) and tried to take a peek into the outernet. He didn’t want to face the light of day and the problems that always came with living life, but anything was better than memorising the shoddy vision of Derek Hale he’d managed to spot from a distance and just before he friggin’ passed out.

Hey! Maybe he’d even get to see the guy up close, kind of like a petting zoo but for really hot guys and wait… Maybe he could somehow sneak a _touch_ -

Big giant dust motes floated in the air like the HD ones in movies that are always CGI but Stiles could friggin see them ‘cause wherever he was was so damn dusty. That’d explain his need to sneeze so badly. Next he tried to fix his eyesight _further_ than the distracting bits of congregated particles, but they were pretty damn distracting so he wasn’t very successful in his attempt. Though it became quickly apparent that the level of sunlight streaming into wherever the hell he was, was well over 9000 and thus- shit, shit, shittity shit- because that meant he’d slept through the whole afternoon, evening and night.

His dad was going to kill him, and then after that he was going to kill himself because he had a friggin’ economics exam and those _sucked_ to reschedule because his teacher was a lazy bumhole.

But for now the more important matter at hand was the steady stream of, Great… he’s awake. What the hell do I do now? going through the mind nearby. Derek _Hale’s_ mind.

Stiles _really_ wanted to be able to see now. Pretty please. Pretty please, with a cherry on top?

“What were you doing out in the preserve?” Derek asked, voice rough and husky and _Jesus_ , was that a growl he heard? Stiles was going to combust. He was actually going to spontaneously combust! He needed a cold shower, stat.

Of course, that thought process didn’t help him very much because now his brain was lacking even more blood (Stiles had absolutely no clue where it all went, nope, none at all) which only made his headache ten times worse. What was it up to now? Seven trillion and ten times worse than a normal headache? That sounded about right. “One sec.” Stiles said to stall for time as he tried to blink the world into focus. Judging by Derek’s thoughts, he wasn’t doing a very good job of looking even semi-sane. “I have a really bad headache and also I’m pretty sure my brain just went through the equivalency of reading twenty, hundred page encyclopedias back-to-back in the span of two seconds. So if you could find some patience in that ridiculously good-looking head of yours then that’d be awesome. But if not then I could just… lie here as you yelled at me. I’d be fine with that too. Or you could not yell at me and just let me stare at you for a while. That’d also be pretty great.”

He’s insane. Derek decided and Stiles was right there with him.

But his scatterbrained spiel must’ve gotten to the bloke because Stiles saw something appear at the edge of his vision and Stiles wished to God his eyes would clear up right then because he’d give anything to see- Oh yup. There you go. His eyes obviously just needed enough incentive because there Derek Hale was in all his leather wearing and pensive faced glory. It also became apparent to Stiles that they were in some run-down, burnt out place and he was lying on some faded-green couch that was way too fancy but at the same time deserved to be thrown out because _man_ , was it nasty.

Stiles blinked a few more times, bringing his spastic movement counter to about a billion (Woo! New world record!) and looked around a bit more, despite how much he hated keeping himself from just blatantly ogling and objectifying the man in the corner.

Even if he did want to try and give a name to the greeny-bluey- _something_ of Derek’s eyes.

“What is this place?” Stiles asked. Images came to the forefront of Derek’s mind in an instant. Fire, screaming, memories that were alike to Laura’s own… and shit. Stiles figured it out. “Wait, are we inside the Hale house? I mean, is this safe? Is the place... structurally sound?”

That’s it. I’m going to kill him. Derek did not look amused. Stiles was not placated by the guy’s thoughts either. He was a man of few words though, not bothering to deign Stiles with a response, but that was okay because- Hello! Mind reader!

Derek wanted him to answer the ‘damn question’, so Stiles did. He’d already grown bored of staring at the dusty drapes and boarded up holes in the walls and windows. The tired looking rug on the ash-covered floor… It was all kind of sad, actually, and going by Derek’s inner-most layers (yes, Stiles was digging that deep, it was rude but he didn’t care) the poor fella’ wasn’t all that happy to be here either.

But Stiles could tell from the giant load of memories he was uploaded with the day before that the place held a great significance to Derek… Frustratingly though, Derek seemed to have the same purposeful holes in his memory that his sister did. God! His sister! How could Stiles be such a jerk? He could friggin’ _hear_ and _feel_ how much Derek was hurting and he was acting like an idiot! “I’m so sorry about Laura.” _Surprise, shock, anger, **rage**_. Stiles quickly backtracked.  How does he know Laura? Brilliant. Stiles could work with that. “She came to me, wanting my help with a lead she had on the Hale house fire-”

Stiles was going to say more, explain about his awesome private investigating service [shameless self-promotion], but Derek’s mental direction rapidly took a turn. A wave of self-loathing and guilt rushed through the man, and if Stiles hadn’t been able to read the guy’s mind he wouldn’t have even seen a change to the grr-I’m-angry expression on his face. Stiles was an awesome judge of character (refer to section 3B, paragraph two: _duh_ he can read minds), so he knew at his core, Derek was a good guy. Stiles couldn’t help himself when he blurted, “Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.”

To say Derek was perturbed by his words was an understatement, because before Stiles even had the chance to drool at how sexy it was to see Derek in full-rage mode as he stormed towards him with… flashing blue eyes? (Wait what?) The guy ripped Stiles from the couch, throwing him to the ground. Stiles could hear in his thoughts that he didn’t _really_ want to hurt him, but the teen also knew that his saviour/man-handler was hurting. He was hurting deep within.

But so was Stiles. “Ow!” He protested as he felt an actual bruise forming on his elbow. “What the hell was that?!”

If he doesn’t start talking soon I’m going to- And then a very helpful mental image of Stiles without his tongue (Stiles didn't exactly see how that would solve Derek’s problem) popped into Derek’s mind. Great. Just great. “Here’s how this is going to work,” Derek intoned as he crouched over Stiles, grabbing the collar of Stiles’ uniform and bringing the boy close enough that Stiles could see every fleck of bronze in his not-simply-green eyes. The whole thing was not nearly as intimidating as Derek was intending it to be. Mostly because Stiles was lost in his hazel-but-not hazel eyes. “You’re going to answer my questions, or I’m going to rip you into pieces and scatter your body around the forest in a way that’ll make sure they won’t find _all_ of you.”

Stiles knew Derek was lying, but he was still stunned enough to just nod in agreeance.

“Good.” Derek hauled him up and shoved him against the nearby wall, hands rough and chin tilted ever so slightly that Stiles could see the perfect line of the man’s neck- Another image Stiles was going to save for his shower later. His wallet said he was… Stilinski. Sheriff's kid. Better make sure not to keep him for too long. And make sure he won’t talk. “Who are you?”

“Stiles,” he answered in a hurry, going for a handshake before he realised Derek had his arms pinned to his sides. “Stiles Stilinski. I’m sixteen, Aries. I like short walks on the beach and-” Derek pressed his elbow into his throat. “Okay, my bad, shutting up now.”

He doesn’t smell scared. Why doesn’t he smell scared? What does he know? Derek stared at him for a long time in silence, which was plenty fine with Stiles because… Yup. He was getting a really good view of who he was sure was the hottest guy in Beacon Hills.

Somehow… Derek picked up on his totally-innocent attention because he stepped away like Stiles had spontaneously caught fire. _Sad face_. “What were you doing in the preserve?” He asked again, not voicing the dozens of other questions Stiles knew he had in mind.

They were standing in the shadows now, Stiles somewhat bathed in the light that was filtering through the gaps in the floor above. There was a groaning sound as the building fought to stay standing, creaking steps, coming from the… hall(?) and Stiles decided the only way it could become _more_ atmospheric was if it started storming. “That’s actually a really long story. I would tell you but it’d take all day and I have school so-”

Derek just… growled. Huh. Stiles was _not_ expecting that reaction. Something was for sure weird with the Hale’s, but he didn’t have the brainpower to figure it out. “I had a headache. Walking in the forest clears my mind.” It was a very simplified version of the truth. It took a lot of effort because Stiles rarely did just _simple_.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._ Was that his heart beat, _again?_ What was with all the super-hearing lately!  He’s not lying. “And you just… wandered your way over to me?”

“I heard your voice.”

Also not a lie. Derek listened to his heart again, decided the same. Something changed in his thoughts, became resigned. Like he was tired of trying to act like a ‘bad guy’ and just wanted the encounter over with. Stiles didn’t blame him, the guy still had a running commentary going on in the back of his head that consisted of a lot of self-loathing and bitter wishes. “How did you know my sister? What happened yesterday, I heard… I heard you say something… in my head?”

Ah. That was certainly a change. This was his chance to get through to the guy, not just because he wanted to stop Derek from ‘ripping him into pieces’ (or because he wanted the chance at seeing more of the drop-dead gorgeous fellow), but because in all of his years he had never met someone who hated themselves as much as Derek Hale did. He didn’t like that _at all_ , because whatever was going on in his head, Stiles knew he didn’t deserve to feel guilty about anything.

“Like I said, your sister came to me for help.” Stiles began, intent to get on Derek’s good side and learn more. Maybe see through the gaps Derek was purposefully leaving in his memories. “I have a talent for tracking down leads and gathering information. She was investigating…” Stiles decided to skip over the whole ‘Hale house’ thing, once was enough. “Yeah and I followed the lead, found out some things, then when she didn’t show up for our meet I got worried.”

Derek waited.

Oh, what’d been the other thing he asked? I can’t believe Laura wanted help from _this_ kid. He wasn’t lying though. So what did he find out? What lead did Laura have? Stiles ignored the new questions circling Derek’s mind and focused. Right! He wanted to know about the whole random psychic communication thing they had. “Um, well I… I don’t know. I don’t know what you think you heard but I didn’t hear anything.”

_Thumpety-thump._ A lie. That’s it, I’m ripping his throat out. “No! No, no, no wait!” Stiles scampered away from the scary dude and held up his hands in surrender. Confusion poured off of Derek in waves and Stiles realised he’d reacted before the man had even made a move to hurt him.

Welp, awkward.

Derek quirked a brow, thoughts falling off as confusion took hold. Stiles could tell he was trying to puzzle him out, trying to figure out what the teen with the spastic tendencies could possibly be hiding. The thing was though, Stiles knew Derek was hiding his own secret. Enhanced hearing, smell, strength- if his ability to fling Stiles around like he was nothing but a wet rag was anything to go by. Stiles realised with a slight gasp that, wow, maybe this was his chance at someone finally understanding.

Someone finally understanding what it was like to be… different.

Of course that was a very YA novel kind of view on things, but Stiles didn’t care because he suddenly became giddy with his hope and at the chance of someone not treating him like he was crazy! Though… could he just tell Mr. Tall-dark-and-handsome his biggest secret?

Would Derek even believe him?

Stiles felt his hope dissipate as he looked at the grumpy expression on Derek’s face.

“I just… Do you know what happened to Laura?”

Yup. He was a wuss, but the king of deflection.

The Alpha. It was a furious thought that slipped through the missing links in Derek’s mind and Stiles froze. “What’s an Alpha?” He couldn’t help but blurt after seeing _flashes of claws_ and the _echo of a howl_.

“What did you say?” Derek snarled and yup, that’s why Stiles called him rage dude. “Where did you hear that?” He continued, and fuck his eyes _were_ flashing blue.

Thus proved to be the ultimate test of his ‘prompting’ abilities because all of a sudden it’s like a dam broke lose in Derek’s mind and memories poured out, thoughts broke free and Stiles snatched them all and tucked them away before they could disappear. He took in the claws and the fangs and the snarls and the full moon and the golden/blue/red eyes and… Holy shit!

Derek was a fucking _werewolf_.

“You’re a werewolf!” Stiles’ brain reiterated for the audience to hear, and Derek appeared shocked, flood of thoughts coming to a standstill. There was an immediate reaction to deny, to disagree that burst inside Derek’s mind but Stiles knew that his assumption was true. “Oh my God!”

On the other hand though, it kind of sucked because Stiles was totally smart enough to figure that out himself. Stupid spoilers, stupid trolling brain.

His freakout was interrupted when Derek was pressing into his personal space again, and this time he didn’t hold back. The barrier of restraint crumbled within some extra space in Derek’s mind and suddenly Stiles’ was facing a sharp-fanged, blue eyed, snarling and extra-hairy Derek.

“What are you doing?” Derek demanded as though Stiles was sucking the answers right out of the werewolf’s (Jesus he was being snarled at by a _werewolf_ ) head. Stiles had to sympathise though, it did probably seem really weird in Derek’s perspective.

He would be a little touchy too.

“You’re a werewolf!” Derek may have already gotten over Stiles’ revelation but the teen was still in full-blown WTF mode. “That makes so much sense! Laura was like you too, right? And that’s what the Alpha is! Is that what killed her? Are those the red eyes? You have blue eyes, who has golden eyes?”

“Stiles!” _That_ snapped Stiles out of the blowing of his mind. He hadn’t heard the fanged-sex-God say his name yet and damn if that didn't send a tingle up his spine. Plus, he’d freaking _growled_ it. Was Stiles getting a growl!kink? Was that a thing? “Tell me what’s going on.”

In after thought, Stiles blames it on the fact he had a killer headache and hadn’t taken his adderall for how he just blurted: “I can read minds.” To an obviously hair-trigger, claw-wielding werewolf. Like if anything would tick the guy off it’d probably be the fact that Stiles had been perving on his thoughts all morning.

Though, much to his relief it seemed to give pause to the first supernatural creature Stiles had ever met (second if he counted Laura). The fangs receded, and Stiles watched in wonderment as next, the sideburns that’d magically grown faded and his hair returned to it’s usual ‘casually styled’ fashion. He watched, mouth agape as Derek’s features smoothed back into their usual form, but his eyes still burned icy-blue.

That’s not possible. You can hear my thoughts?

“Yeah,” Stiles shrugged. The cat was out of the bag, or in this case, the werewolf was out of the bag. Wait, Stiles got his analogy wrong. Ugh! He was not on his game that morning. “It’s more like I’m contractually obligated to hear _everyone’s_ thoughts, which sucks but I deal. Even then it’s more of a nuisance than anything because it gives me a really bad headache, especially when I’m ‘round a lot of people- hence why I like the forest because it’s so quiet. Even then the headaches are pretty much a constant so I guess you could say-”

Stiles cut himself off when he realised he was rambling again.

Derek’s thoughts were going a mile a minute and even though Stiles was a badass mind reader, if he did say so himself, he couldn’t keep up with the stream of thoughts flowing through the wolfie’s mind. Which sucked because the only advantage he had against a werewolf was knowing what his next move was.

When it became obvious that his new canine pal wasn’t going to say anything, Stiles rubbed at his temples and stifled a yawn. “Speaking of headaches, I’ve still got a pretty bad one and it won’t help if my dad reems me for missing school… So if you’re not going to kill me, maybe we could talk later?”

He wanted to stay and learn more about the Hale family and the whole ‘lycanthrope’ thing, but he _did_ have a need for education and he’d already missed his fair share of school days already. Then again, he was sure he could sweet talk his dad out of it by maybe telling him he made a new… friend- if a werewolf threatening to rip him into little pieces counted for anything.

His dad was always worrying about the teen, mostly because Stiles had no friends.

Hell, his dad might even _congratulate_ him for missing school to hang with a friend.

As though to completely countermand all of Stiles’ assumptions, Derek turned and walked away. Okay. He’s crazy.

Stiles resigned himself not to try and explain, to prove he wasn’t bullshitting the man, because there was a familiar ache in his chest that he’d felt far too many times. He didn't want to risk it turning into a full blown angst-attack.

Nobody ever believed him.

Not even a fucking werewolf.

Well… At least Stiles got to admire the guy’s ass in his jeans as he stalked away. That was pretty cool. Totally worth the humiliation and the shoving and the growling and the dramatic ‘werewolves exist’ reveal.

It was just too bad he’d have to wait until after school to take that shower.

Stiles had a crush on Derek Hale. He realized that when all he could think about in class was the color of Derek's eyes, the way he had handled Stiles and fisted his shirt, face way too close but not at all uncomfortable. He hadn’t suffered from teenage infatuation since he was younger, so it very much perturbed him. Stiles had thought himself above all the teenage day-dreams he’d overheard in his life, but it seemed it just took a stupidly perfect and way too aesthetically pleasing _werewolf_ to kick his libido into action.

On top of that, there was definitely something they had going on between them. Stiles had never experienced psychic communication with someone before. Maybe it was because Derek was a werewolf… but he hadn’t had the same problem with Laura. Not that it was a problem, nope, not at all. Stiles had enjoyed getting to know Derek far more than he should’ve. It all sucked though because he knew Derek just thought he was a stupid teenager- Although now that Stiles reminisced about the glorious few moments where he’d gotten to feel the werewolf’s warmth against him, Derek had had an errant thought that Stiles smelled nice.

So… He had that goin’ for him. Odeur de' Stiles.

What he did not have going for him was school. When he got there no one cared that he was late but he’d had to take his economics exam at lunch so he missed out on food. Plus his headache still hadn’t gone away and school was just making it worse. He was hungry, tired, and just wanted to take a _really_ long nap when he got home, only his dad of course was there, waiting for him.

And so he was currently enjoying getting his ass handed to him.

“And you didn’t call! Stiles, you haven’t done something like this since you were thirteen. Is something going on?” His dad’s eyes were wide and beseeching but his thoughts were a torrent of: Maybe I’ve been too easy on him. He’s always been so responsible. Always seemed to know right and wrong. I wish Claudia was still here, she’d be able to get him to talk.

Stiles felt his annoyance at his dad wilt away as he listened in on his father’s thoughts. Jeez, his dad was doing his best, watching over the whole town and dealing with Stiles’ moods and here he was worrying his dad sick. It was stupid of him, really. He _did_ know better. Stiles gave his dad a slight, apologetic and bashful smile. “Sorry dad. Nothing’s going on, I just drove down to the preserve and was taking a nap in my jeep but it turned into a whole ‘sleeping the night’ through thing, which was both super inconvenient and horribly rude of me. I’m really sorry, dad.”

His dad stared at him for a while, eyes sad, thoughts much the same. “Okay kiddo,” the sheriff finally said, patting Stiles’ on the shoulder. “But don’t think you’re getting out of being grounded.”

“Aw dad-” Stiles began to protest, knowing that’d cut into any time he could’ve spent stalking a particular sex-God.

“No, Stiles. Come home straight after school for the next week, then maybe we’ll talk.” His dad held a stern expression for a while, but it faded pretty quickly whilst Stiles just stood there looking like he’d been told Santa wasn’t real. “Gah, kiddo, you know I just want what’s best for you-” Stiles _did_ know that. He’d known that for a long time. “You look kinda tired, why don’t you go get some rest. I’ll make you a sandwich and bring it up to you, okay?”

Food! Stiles wasn’t about to say no to free food. “Yes! Dad you’re the best! I love you sooooo much,” Stiles said and gave his dad a quick hug before darting up stairs. Screw being grounded, Stiles was getting a sandwich, made by his father! “I’ll just go right ahead and settle down in bed and eagerly await my food because if there’s anything that could make me lie still it’s the promise of-” He’s just as annoying as I remember. Why the hell did I bother coming here, again?

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit! Derek Hale was in his room. Derek Hale was _in his room_. Abort any pretense of sleep. He had a werewolf to deal with.

What was the procedure for this? Did he play it cool? Act like a total BAMF? _Sure, let's go with that_ , Stiles decided.

“Derek Hale,” Stiles greeted as he opened the door to his bedroom, looking directly to where Derek was seated… In the shadows, on his chair, with a grumpy look on his face. This was a bad idea. If he can read minds then he’s going to see everything and then he’s going to have more questions and I don’t have time to be dealing with him. But I need to make sure he won’t tell anyone- crap. The guy’s thoughts became dulled as though he was trying not to think, but it totally wasn’t working. “What brings you to my humble abode?” Stiles tugged off his blazer and feigned casualness as he went to chuck the jacket on his office chair- He of course missed which resulted in his coat knocking over a bunch of random stuff on his desk.

Ugh. Why couldn’t Stiles just be _cool_ for once in his life?

If you can read my mind, then you probably already know, Derek thought and damn, the werewolf was picking up on the whole ‘Stiles can read minds’ thing better than… anyone. Hell, did he actually believe Stiles? What happened to the lycanthrope thinking Stiles was insane?! “Uh, yeah I do. I just… It’s habit to ask anyway.”

You have to promise not to tell anyone, swear it on your life and your father’s life because if my secret slips then I’ll rip you _both to pieces_. Then a flurry of thoughts ran through Derek’s mind that weren’t aimed at Stiles, but he heard them anyway. Apparently Derek had been following him all day, making sure he hadn’t ‘spilled the beans’.

Stiles was starting to suspect the guy just didn’t like talking. He supposed his whole ‘mind reading’ thing was more convenient for the werewolf than for Stiles’ himself. Stupid Derek Hale with his brooding persona but perfect stubble and hair and eyes and mouth and-

Stiles. Derek’s abrupt thought brought him from his reverie. So he was still doing the whole ‘not talking’ thing? Great. Stiles felt like he was being used. But at least he was being used by a total ‘hottie’ as this generation of teen girls would say. “Sorry, I get distracted easily. Of course I won’t tell anyone, I actually happen to like being in one piece. Though I wouldn’t be adverse to you if you kept growling at me-”

Stiles shut himself up with an abrupt ‘clack’ of his teeth clamping shut. He needed to stop talking, he needed to stop pretending he and Derek were friends, because they weren’t. Derek obviously could barely even _tolerate_ Stiles, let alone put up with Stiles’ blatant admissions of his ‘maybe sorta kinda crush’. Yeah, sure he could hear the half-formed admissions in the deep-dark recesses of Derek’s brain that ‘Stiles was beautiful in a _lean and lanky_ kind of way’, but there was always a point where someone would notice Stiles’ hot peice of ass.

Those thoughts were a long way from the kind of stuff going on in Stiles’ head.

“We have maybe three minutes before your dad comes upstairs to check on you, then after that you’re coming with me.” Derek cut himself off then, preferring to fill in the rest of the gaps by bringing specific images to the forefront of his memory.

Stiles blinked. “Wait dude, you’re like… really good at thinking about specific things.” The teen was floored, never had he conversed with someone like this, relying on their thoughts rather than words to hold a conversation with them. Stiles didn’t seem to be able to project any of his own thoughts into Derek’s mind like the day before, but hell.. This was the best thing that’d ever happened to him! Someone finally believed him! Derek believed him!!! (Yes that required the use of three exclamation points.)

“Shut up,” Derek growled. _Growled_! Like with a husky voice and eyes flashing blue and just utter macho-manliness being shown off in full force and holy shit Stiles was in _tru-uuh-ble_ because Derek's 'Derekness' was turning Stiles on like the guy was freaking naked and- Oh God, now he was thinking about Derek being naked whilst the guy was glaring at him with werewolf eyes and fists clenched which only made his biceps bulge against the constraint of his jacket and... fuck... 

Stiles just about damn-near fainted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> Comment if you want more!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek didn’t respond, just ducked into the house with an extra thought of, stay, don’t move.
> 
> It was more of a threat with an added bonus of: If you move an inch I’ll sever your feet and make you walk home on stumps.
> 
> Stiles wondered how many threats the guy had in him, but resigned himself to stay still.
> 
> He should’ve known it was an impossible task. Stiles just didn’t do still. He was pretty sure it wasn’t even a thing, probably wasn’t even a real word. If he checked his dictionary there would just be a blank gap between ‘stilleto’ and ‘stilled’.

“So what brought on this sudden compliance of all things ‘Stiles the mind reader’? You definitely thought I was crazy yesterday, which I don’t blame you for, because I also think I’m crazy like 90% of the time. Though if I were crazy I wouldn’t think I was crazy, which raises even more questions than it answers. And why are we going to the preserve again? Are you going to kill me? Because I thought we settled the whole ‘don’t kill the puny human’ thing... Shut up! I’m not an idiot, I’ll have you know, I average a 4.0 GPA.”

Stiles’ knew he was rambling, but mostly it was an attempt to hide how nervous he was. A poor attempt because according to his new wolfie friends thoughts, the guy could _smell_ that he was nervous. On top of that, Derek seemed to continuously like to point out the fact he thought Stiles was an idiot. Such condescending thoughts kept bursting to life in his mind. So yeah, he was going on about whatever thoughts were popping into his head and mourning his uneaten sandwich. He was also secretly preening as he remembered how badass he was when he had climbed out of his own window.

It wasn’t like he’d had much of a choice anyway, the werewolf had growled at him until he’d resigned himself to just ‘go with the flow’. He’d never been more glad that his dad was going to work a double so it meant he probably wouldn’t notice Stiles was missing ‘cause he’d already gone back out to work when Stiles had played ‘let’s scale down a tree and try not to break my spine’ with Derek Hale- The man who was currently leading him to his doom.

“Or is this some kind of weird wolf thing. Do I have to go through an initiation rite now that I know your secret? Please don’t tell me I have to eat a squirrel. Squirrels have really tiny bones and I’m very good at choking and/or dying so please don’t make me eat a squirrel to prove my worthiness.” Stiles knew he was reaching now, his brain was just a _lovely_ place to be in sometimes.  I swear to God if you say one more stupid thing I’m going to subject you to a lifetime of binge-watching Teletubbies. Just endless reruns of that stupid, creepy show. “Wait!” Stiles knew Derek probably hadn’t meant to show his fear at the idea of Tinky-Winky and his gang, but Stiles picked up on it like a thought-bloodhound. “You were scared of The Teletubbies?”

Derek’s groan was both mental and vocal, exasperation pouring off of him in waves. Do you ever _shut up?_

“Not unless I’ve had my Adderall. I don’t _actually_ have ADHD but everyone thinks I do.” Stiles shrugged at the curiosity in Derek’s thoughts. “I dunno, the drugs work so whatever.”

And the plot thickens, Derek mused mentally and Stiles had to smile. Just a little bit. The werewolf was growing on him, which was very unhelpful for his sorta-kinda-crush. “So are you going to tell me what's going on? I'm just saying I can't be held accountable if this is some sort of early birthday gift and I don't react accordingly because I'm too busy worrying that I'm gonna friggin' _die_."

I'm not going to kill you, Stiles, Derek responded. Then a wee bit quieter was an inquisitive thought of: When's his birthday? Which wasn't directed at Stiles, but the boy was humbled that the werewolf cared enough to think it.

"I'm glad you've finally admitted that you won't kill me. It only took twenty minutes of us walking around in the creepy woods." Stiles nearly tripped over a root that totally wasn’t there before, because the universe loved making a fool of him. Derek though, reacted on instinct. His large, strong hands darted out to catch Stiles and the boy found himself hiding his embarrassment behind and angry shout and fist shaking at the surrounding growth. It was a perfect recreation of ‘old man yells at cloud’. “Damn you trees! Why must you pray upon my weakness for being a clumsy noodle! I protested against the destruction of a park once, and I also stopped my dad from littering. Like, God dammit, I even fucking recycle! Environment why must you loathe me so?”

And you say you wander the forest all the time. How are you still _alive?_

Derek was distracted by Stiles’ general ridiculous tendencies that he didn’t immediately notice the two things that the teen did when they finally reached a clearing. First, Stiles took in the haunting sight of the burnt down Hale house, the dusty place he’d woken up in that morning- resulting in the good chance his lungs would never work the same way. _Stupid ash_ , Stiles thought bitterly. The next detail his awesome senses had picked up on was the bundle of wrapped up cloth that rested at the side of the Hale house, standing out against the surrounding hard-packed dirt. The shape of the bundle was achingly familiar, and Stiles had to suppress a gasp as he realized that Derek hadn’t… Of course he hadn’t, not even with the solid twenty-four hours he’d had to do it.

Stiles knew that he himself couldn’t have buried his sister. Not even if her body was swaddled in heavy fabric, hidden from view. And God, Stiles shuddered, it wasn’t even her _whole_ body. It was just fucking _half_ of it.

It was after Stiles’ sudden silence that Derek seemed to realize that a) he was still holding onto Stiles as though the teen might fall over thin air- a very likely possibility considering said teen was Stiles Stilinski- and b) they’d arrived at the Hale house.

Straight away Derek froze up, and Stiles winced at the thoughts that flooded through the werewolf’s head when his gaze swept over the obvious- “Hey,” Stiles said, cutting off the other’s surface thoughts. There was still a lingering sorrow that permeated from Derek that made Stiles want to hug the guy. Knowing that wouldn’t be well received, Stiles decided on relying on his mouth to do the job… And yes Stiles realized how bad that sounded but shh, he had an idea! “What was the point of parking so far away? Was this supposed to be some kind of grand reveal? Out of the forest and into the marginally-less creepy house? No offense werewolf-dude, but I’ve been here before.”

“Shut up,” Derek said, aloud this time, and then continued mentally. I had to make sure no one was here. Images of whizzing arrows and angry red eyes blurred through Derek’s mind. Hunters, or the Alpha, Derek helpfully captioned. If we just drove up here I wouldn’t have been able to scent them in time. Now hurry up, we’ve got work to do.

“You still have yet to tell me what that work _is_ ,” Stiles grumbled, but followed along. Derek steered clear of the left side of the house and Stiles wasn’t about to replan their flight course. Nope. He wasn’t a pilot, and he certainly wasn’t a hot stewardess with a bust that could persuade the captain to make a detour. Then again… Maybe if Derek was _into_ it… It certainly made for good foreplay-

We’re going to try and track the Alpha, Derek butted in mentally at the right moment before Stiles could imagine Derek in a pilot's uniform, tie just waiting to be tugged off, shirt too tight, showing off the shape of Derek’s glorious chest… If we’re lucky, his scent will still be around and we can follow it.

“I don’t see how I could help with that.” Sure Stiles was a badass ninja but that didn’t mean he had a keen sense of smell, unless he was sniffing out curly fries. He doubted the Alpha smelled like his favorite meal though. Then again, who was he to judge if the werewolf had a thing for salted, fried and heavenly snacks?

You’re coming with me because I need someone to hold the flashlight. Stiles knew it was a poor excuse, he was pretty sure dogs- and by extension wolves- had pretty good see-in-the-dark capabilities. He wasn’t going to question the guy though, if he wanted Stiles’ company… Then he was crazy but at least Stiles got to hang out with his new buddy. So instead he settled on complaining, “Aw man. We’re not going to be here ‘till dark, are we? ‘Cause I didn’t bring my jacket and that’s gonna suck.”

Derek didn’t respond, just ducked into the house with an extra thought of, stay, don’t move.

It was more of a threat with an added bonus of: If you move an inch I’ll sever your feet and make you walk home on stumps.

Stiles wondered how many threats the guy had in him, but resigned himself to stay still.

He should’ve known it was an impossible task. Stiles just didn’t do _still_. He was pretty sure it wasn’t even a thing, probably wasn’t even a real word. If he checked his dictionary there would just be a blank gap between ‘stilleto’ and ‘stilled’.

So of course he found his feet running away from him. His stupid brain was being stupid again. But it was too late because before he knew it he was kneeling before the lump of cloth, peering down at it with a queasy feeling in his gut.

 _So much for avoiding the obvious_ , Stiles thought.

He dared not touch the lump, but he did take in the area around him, musing whether it would be a good place for a grave. He doubted Derek would want to bury her somewhere else. They couldn’t exactly take half of a body to a graveyard and… Yeah, just _no_. Stiles also decided he probably ought to be here for the guy when the deed was done, and what better time than the present?

Stiles did _not_ want to consider what could happen to the body if it was left for another night out in the open woods.

He knew though that Derek wasn’t ready to say goodbye to his sister, but he also knew the werewolf probably never would be ready to say goodbye, not for a long time. It was wrong to leave her _there_ , waiting, wrapped in a stupid painter’s sheet.

The teen had absolutely no idea how to put forward the prospect to Derek. There was a good chance the broody, spooky lycanthrope might’ve snapped and eaten him. Stiles was skin and bones, skin and bones! The werewolf could’ve probably ate him in one bite.

He’s saved the trouble of trying to explain because Derek’s suddenly there, something steely in his gaze as he hauled a shovel up and rested it over his shoulder. He quirked a brow, mouth a thin line. “You going to help?” He asked.

Stiles was stunned, because that was four whole words. A stark contrast to his eerily silent thoughts. The werewolf’s emotions had been muted too, and all Stiles could gather from the guy was the faint feeling of impatience.

“Oh…” Stiles was unprepared. He looked around, stood as he tried to figure out how he could help. Finally, he spotted another shovel leaning against the house, ripe for his taking. “Sure.”

Thus came to be Stiles’ first experience digging a grave.

Though, sadly, it wasn’t his first funeral.

With Derek’s super strength Stiles’ really didn’t need to do anything. The grave was dug, six-by-four, ten feet deep. He stared at it, stared at Derek, tried not to look at the cloth-wrapped body. It was a sad affair, but Derek seemed hell-bent on _not_ thinking about anything. Stiles thought it was a bad way to cope, but hell, at least Laura was finally going to be put to rest.

Then, when the time came to lower the body into the earth, Derek froze. There were thoughts trying to spring to life in the man’s mind, but he squashed them down as soon as they surfaced. Stiles gave him a look, appraising and sympathetic at the same time. He knew how it felt, could remember it from when his mother- And he could feel Derek’s emotions.

Stiles worried his bottom lip and turned to carefully lift the bundle of fabric.

It wasn’t too heavy, and he didn’t have too much trouble carrying it over slowly and then gently lowering it into the grave. Derek had begun to- God’s honest- _growl_ , when Stiles had started lifting the body, but he’d settled down by the time Stiles had her safely in her resting place. He’d never thought he’d see another burial so soon, but this time he was older, he was stronger.

He moved back and stood by Derek’s side.

The forest was quiet and still. Like it was mourning the loss as much as they were.

Stiles knew what Derek needed, but at the same time, he didn’t, so he settled for remaining silent and leaning against Derek’s shoulder in a gentle and careful but obvious ‘I’m there for you buddy’ kind of way. (Werewolves, Stiles was quickly learning, were very tactile creatures and Stiles had absolutely no issues with giving Derek a light pat on his shoulder, his very muscular and tone shoulder- though Stiles tried not to think about that, or just simply be there for the beta.) And it seemed to work because the werewolf sniffled a few times, thoughts growing soft and fond as he remembered his sister, and Stiles dared to reach down and take Derek’s hand in his.

“She was amazing, Derek. I’d only known Laura for maybe ten minutes but with one look into her mind I knew she was good. Better than most of the people in the world. I knew that she loved and cared and protected. She was smart and brave and she’ll be missed.” Stiles wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, some weird part of his brain that was better at words than he’d ever be- but he was glad that he’d said them, because Derek’s lip twitched ever so slightly and it was the closest he’d seen the wolf to smiling (rather than smirking like a bumhole.)

“Yeah,” is all Derek said.

Stiles could read his mind though. He didn’t need to say anything else.

When they went back to Derek’s original plan to search the area for the Alpha’s scent, Stiles was more determined than ever to help his new bosom buddy. Whoever the ‘Alpha’ was, they’d killed _Laura_. **Bravewittysmart** Laura. Stiles wanted them to pay, wanted them to understand how much they’d taken from the world over some petty ‘revenge’ thing- if the swirly symbol and associated memories in Derek’s mind were anything to go by. Laura had been too good to have deserved to be messed up in such petty shit. Stiles found himself growing angry and that wasn’t good because he needed to stay strong, stay calm and help Derek.

So he distracted himself how he normally did, and distracted Derek too. He rambled.

“You know my dad grounded me because of my sordid affair with the night and the woods yesterday? Oh my God! We need to have a talk about eavesdropping and how ‘very not good’ it is,” Stiles huffed as he tuned into Derek’s mental replay of that morning, how he’d been in the room before Stiles and the sheriff had started their discussion. “Maybe you could’ve helped me out. Did I mention how I’m friendless?” Derek just gave off an amused and unsurprised vibe. Asshole. “Yeah well I’m friendless and I recon if you hadda knocked on the door and told me dad ‘hey my new best-bro _The Stilesnator_ was hanging with me’ he probably would’ve forgiven me.”

That is the worst codename I’ve ever heard in my entire existence, Derek thought drily.

“Pfft! Who’s more badass than Terminator?” Stiles refuted. “Plus I’m an absolute ringer for Arnie.” Then he showed Derek his epic Schwarzenegger impression: “Hasta la vista, baby.”

Derek was so ~~amused~~ impressed that he actually laughed out loud.  Shut up, he ordered, with fondness.

Stiles pouted though, clearly picking up on how stupid Derek thought he was. “Well just you wait. I’ll prove how awesome I am. The Stilesnator isn’t one to-”

His speech was cut off when Derek let go of a branch a bit too early and it flung back and hit Stiles in the face. Luckily enough though, the only thing that was hurt was his pride. “Dammit, Derek! That was totally uncalled for!”

Derek just flashed him a smirk over his stupidly perfect shoulder.

The werewolf was fortunate that Stiles was above such petty things like throwing a stone at him. Nope. Stiles was above that.

(Instead he threw the flashlight at Derek but Derek didn’t even bother to turn around as his hand snapped up and caught it mid air. Stiles was going to take that secret to his grave though.)

They’d been walking for hours, so long that the sun had pretty much set and Stiles had absolutely no idea where they were. The shivering started up about ten minutes after it was 80% dark out but it seemed Derek wasn’t any closer to giving up than he had been when they’d started. Stiles wasn’t giving up either… he was just really tired and wanted to take a break. He was just a human after all, he couldn’t walk for hours on end like Bear “Wolf” Grylls over here. “Can we t-take a b-break?” Stiles asked after being silent for a good five minutes- a new record for him. He was proud that his question was still understandable, even with his teeth chattering so badly.

Derek only just seemed to remember Stiles was there, because he turned around and frowned at him. “You okay?” He asked. Stiles only paid half-attention to what Derek was saying, busy listening to the concerned thoughts streaming in the werewolf’s mind. He was realizing that he’d been so focused in trying to track down scents he hadn’t picked up on Stiles’ discomfort.

Which Stiles figured was a really rare thing to happen given by the guilt building in Derek’s mind. “Yeah. T-tot-tally fine.”

Even Stiles could tell how bad his lie was. Derek didn’t even need to listen to the ‘thumpity-thump’ of his heart to know he was spouting utter BS. “Here,” Derek said gruffly and stalked forward, mind oddly blank but in a different way from before.

Stiles was kind of worried the guy was about to kill him just so he didn't have to worry about his cold, annoying and stupid human companion. Instead though, he was shocked to find that the werewolf was simply draping his leather jacket around Stiles’ shoulder. The material was warm, heated from Derek’s inner werewolf-furnace. It didn't take long for his shivers to subside and Stiles clutched the jacket to himself, letting out a content sigh. “Thanks.”

Derek managed to have absolutely 0 thoughts about what had just occurred (which peeved Stiles off because, shit, if the werewolf was learning to hide things then he was screwed), instead Derek focused on other things. We’ll head back for tonight. I can’t pick anything up so we can come back tomorrow and try again. 

“Oh yeah sure sounds great. Could we stop and pick up pizza or something on the way?” Stiles was not thinking about the fact he was wearing _Derek Hale’s_ jacket. Not at all. Nope. He certainly wasn’t sniffing at it, taking in the werewolf’s heady and earthy scent with a hint of spicy sandalwood. There was absolutely no way he was imagining being wrapped in Derek’s arms, his warmth enveloping Stiles so that the boy-

You’re buying. Anything but hawaiian, Derek replied.

Stiles gaped. “How can you not like hawaiian?!” Stiles exclaimed as they turned back in the direction of Derek’s car (he totally knew where they were. Stiles wasn’t lost.) His flashlight was swooping in random arcs and he upped his pace a bit, excited to ride in the Camaro again. “Hawaiian pizza is pretty much the lifeblood of pizza. Pizza wouldn’t be pizza without the three core recipes. Pepperoni, hawaiian and supreme. You’ve just offended all of Italy.”

I’ll be sure to write them a formal apology.

“Your sarcasm is very unhelpful. So if not hawaiian then what do you wanna get?” If Derek said he wanted plain cheese Stiles might’ve reconsidered being friends with the guy.

Derek though, seemed completely uncaring as to what they ate. Whatever makes you happy, Stiles, the man thought and Stiles’ jaw might’ve dropped. Just a teensy bit, because a buff and supernatural werewolf man was letting him _choose a friggin’ pizza_. It was surreal, and made something warm fizzle to life in his chest because… He’d only ever shared a pizza with his dad and family friends- and the guys at the department. Pizza sharing was a right of passage to become bros, and Stiles was super eager to befriend the angsty werewolf.

“Well I like pepperoni. You can’t go wrong with pepperoni. Cheesy crust is always good too and I like deep-dish but we can negotiate with thin base if that’s your kinda thing. I hope it isn’t though. Because you know what they say about people who like thin base pizza.”

Pepperoni is good, Derek said and that was that.

“Sweet. I’m glad you’re not fussy. About pizza at least, you seem fussy about clothing. I myself am rocking the graphic tees and plaid look but you on the other hand seem to prefer designer labels.” Derek sent him a glare. Stiles held up his hands in a placating gesture. “What? I just complimented your fashion sense. No need to get all grouchy on me.”

If you keep talking I’m going to make you pay for the pizza, Derek threatened, but it was half-hearted and Stiles already knew the guy planned on paying for their meal anyway (Stiles wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he had no money. He had a job. He wasn’t living off ramen… yet.)

“Okay! Okay, yeesh.” Stiles rolled his eyes, but sent a small smirk in the werewolf’s direction. “Don’t be such a sourwolf.”

It soon became obvious that Derek did not appreciate his comedic abilities because Stiles soon found himself being chased by an angry werewolf through to woods.

Stiles had no idea how it got to that point, really. At first he’d thought they’d eat downstairs on the kitchen table. A quiet, stilted conversation would follow and then after about ten minutes Derek would leave with an awkward goodbye. That wasn’t how it went though. Not even remotely.

When Derek finally stopped chasing him like a rabid animal (the bastard had totally chased him all the way to the car), they’d made their way to the pizzeria on the way to Stiles’ place. The two of them had gone in together, Derek sticking close to Stiles’ side, looking around as though a giant hungry werewolf with red eyes would pop out at any moment. That left Stiles ordering the food, and the boy had asked for one large pepperoni and of course garlic bread- pizza wasn’t a real meal unless garlic bread accompanied it. Then they’d settled in a booth as they waited, Derek looking bored as hell, so Stiles had gone ahead and distracted the guy from his broody thoughts.

First he’d started by talking about food- how they ought to buy curly fries some time- because his brain was on the topic. That then segued into the dismal attempt his school had made at trying to recreate the perfection of fries that were curly and glorious. Derek had quirked a brow at that, then mentally recited how when he was at school he’d always bring his own food because ‘werewolves needed to feed their growing bones’, his exact words had been a bit less _fun_ but Stiles had still mentioned how he’d once tried to bring a container of leftover chinese from the previous night and unfortunately he’d forgotten about the whole ‘no peanuts’ thing and someone had nearly died, but it was okay! Stiles had insisted. The girl had had an epipen so… At least she hadn’t died but that still didn’t stop her from slapping Stiles in the face for his stupidity.

Derek had found that story far more amusing than his earlier ‘sourwolf’ one liner, but Stiles didn’t mind because at least the guy was smiling. And damn, Derek’s smile was certainly something. It made Stiles’ breath catch like he was choking on air, but at the same time something warm spread through him and he couldn’t help but match Derek’s grin.

When their order was done Stiles had taken it upon himself to be the ‘great and mighty pizza box warrier’ and valiantly carried their meal to the car and then subsequently into the house. That’d brought upon an awkward pause just inside the doorway where Stiles kind of forgot what he was doing and just stood there, watching as Derek toed off his muddy boots.

“Um…” Stiles had said stupidly. Derek looked at him with a quirked brow, half amused, half ‘you seriously are an idiot sometimes’. “Where d’you wanna eat?” He finally asked.

Here’s fine, he had answered. Got something we can put on whilst we eat? Derek had pondered as he ambled over to the couch.

Stiles froze, and then felt like an idiot because their DVD player was busted because Stiles may have… fallen on it at some point in those last few days. Which left him with… “I have netflix, on my laptop. Shall I grab it?”

Derek had nodded an affirmation and Stiles turned to go upstairs, only realizing he was still holding the damn pizza boxes when Derek followed behind him and snatched them from his grasp. He shot him a smug look. Knowing you, you’ll probably fall down the stairs and ruin the pizza.

Stiles had just sputtered and tried to come up with a witty comeback, his concentration had lapsed for long enough that he missed a step and stumbled forwards, luckily falling flat on the upstairs landing. _Fuck the universe_ , he’d thought until he felt Derek’s warm touch on his arm, easing him up off the floor. Nevermind, Derek was touching him again, he loved the universe and he was very sorry for getting mad at it.

Anyway… That was how he now ended up sprawled in bed with Derek next to him as they watched Dollhouse on netflix and ate their pizza. He had thought they’d just grab his laptop and go downstairs but apparently Derek was too lazy to go back down the stairs so they’d settled for chilling on Stiles’ bed. _Stiles’ bed_. It was _his_ bed and Derek friggin’ Hale was sitting on it, next to him, eating pizza with his goddamn mouth that shouldn’t have been able to stretch so wide, lips that were greased up and enticing under the low light of his bedside lamp.

He was sitting right next to the guy. Their knees were _touching_!

Stiles was doomed. Entirely doomed. The universe was trying a bit too hard to please him, clearly, because he could barely focus on the show when Derek was next to him, a solid block of bulging muscles and soft skin and whatever-magic-color his eyes were, eyes that were attuned to the screen as he just engulfed an entire pizza slice. Dear fucking God, how far back did he manage to shove that without gagging? Stiles was going to sob. He was actually going to sob and fling himself off a fucking cliff.

If I were Ballard I’d have just quit and taken a vacation.

Stiles considered Derek and how well he’d do at playing the role of Paul Ballard. He did have a nice jawline, but Tahmoh’s was better, as hard as that was for Stiles to admit.

“Who’s Tahmoh?” Derek asked between mouthfuls of cheesy goodness.

Stiles froze. Had he said that out loud? Damn. He’d been caught. “It’s the guy who plays the cop.”

“Oh,” Derek said. He then proceeded to reach out to grab the last piece of pizza. He paused though, glanced at the boy by his side. “Want it?”

Derek Hale. On his bed. Asking if he ‘wanted it’. “Nah, it’s okay. You can have it.”

Stiles was going to implode. He had to stop torturing himself, ogling Derek was _not_ helping his predicament. Not one bit.

(That didn’t stop him from watching as Derek’s practiced fingers picked up the last slice and slid it into his mouth.)

He was just about to start the next episode when his memory decides to kick in oh-so-helpfully. “Crap,” Stiles mumbled, shoving the laptop off of him and grabbing up the trash from their #pepperonidreaming feast. “Stupid brain. Worst timing.” He was tempted to slap his brain, mostly because it was rude enough to interrupt the ‘moment’ he was having with Derek. The werewolf had been so damn close, the warmth from his body encompassing Stiles like the world’s grumpiest blanket. Alas, he had responsibilities to attend to.

What is it? Derek asked.

“Homework,” Stiles muttered. He grumbled as he shoved the empty packaging into the tiny wastebasket under his desk and then snagged his satchel with perhaps a bit too much force. “Stupid calculus. Stupid 4.0 GPA. Stupid scholarship,” Stiles muttered as he started pulling out his stuff. It wouldn’t take him long to complete the exercises that were due the next day, but damn he’d been enjoying chilling with his werewolf bud.

Derek though, hadn’t made a move to leave. The guy had actually settled back against the headboard. His eyes were mostly closed as he tucked his hands behind his head. “Oh yeah, brag all you want about not having to do homework. At least one of us will know how to optimise the area of a trapezium.”

His buddy just snorted disdainfully and thought; Yes and whilst you’re winning the mathletes championship I’ll be taking down an angry Alpha.

Stiles had to turn and glare at the werewolf for _that_ little remark, only to see what was quite possibly the cutest thing in all of existence. Derek had to update his status to were _puppy_ because he was looking impossibly adorable with his slight smirk, half-lidded gaze and- _Hell_ , were those actual fucking dimples?

Stiles’ decided that Derek was the world’s worst tease and turned to do his homework because if he didn’t free himself now then he’d end up doodling Derek’s name instead of second derivatives and area formulas.

As he worked he tried very hard not to think about the fact there was a gorgeous man in his bed, right behind him. He obviously wasn’t doing a very good job at staying focused, really, it was too much to ask of Stiles anyway- So he took ten minutes longer than he should have. As soon as he was done he turned to shout his victory to Derek…

Only to find the werewolf was right behind him.

Whilst Stiles was dealing with his heart attack, the werewolf picked up his exercise book and read through one of his responses. After a moment- a moment in which Stiles clutched his chest somewhat dramatically and tried to slow the frantic beat of his heart. If he were in a cartoon his heart would’ve been bulging out of his chest in a cute but inaccurate heart shaped confession of his adoration- Derek hummed and pointed at a line of equations. “You know if you derive the original function it would save you having to solve for x…”

Stiles may or may not have died at that moment. Derek Hale, leaning over him, talking ~~dirty~~ maths to him. Was it weird Stiles was so damn turned on by that?

Holy shit… Now Stiles was getting some real nerd!Derek feels, imagining the werewolf in glasses and a sweater and chewing on the tip of a pen, looking up at him with his stupid magical (like how the fuvck can eyes be more than one color?) gaze and just- hnnngg. He swallowed thickly, mouth suddenly dry at the mental-image.

“I hate to admit that you’re right,” Stiles said after a suspiciously long silence in which Stiles was trying desperately to keep himself from getting a hard-on. He hoped Derek couldn’t smell his… _interest_. If he could, Derek wasn’t thinking about it. Unless he was just using his annoying-but-cool ability to _not think of things_. “Lemme fix it real quick.”

He bent over and started scribbling, messy scrawl noting where he changed his work. He had to give it to Derek, the guy knew his calculus. Stiles had to wonder whether Derek finished high-school. He only knew the facts that his dad head, and something like that wasn’t a question the police department bothered to ask. “Hey did you ever-” Stiles turned to ask Derek just that, but it seemed the broody beta had disappeared.

Well… Stiles was surprised the guy had stayed this long. Though it would’ve been nice if he’d said goodbye.

At least now Stiles could finally take that shower.

The next morning Stiles got up early so he could cook himself a proper breakfast- which in the Stilinski household meant turkey bacon and poached eggs, along with a nice glass of pulp-free OJ. His dad had come home some time late that night so Stiles didn’t expect him to wake up in time to join him for brekkie. So he dug into the meal, enjoying his Masterchef worthy dish.

But then thoughts drifted into his mind, sleepy and weak at first but then growing into something bold and familiar. Stiles dug into his second helping of eggs as he waited for his dad to finish prepping for the day. When he finally entered Stiles was on his third helping and didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. He’d missed food too much, and yes the pizza was nice but… food.

He would collect all the food in the world. He would catch them all!

“Hey dad,” Stiles greeted as he greedily hogged some more turkey bacon. “How was work?”

“Long,” is all his dad said, scuffling over to the coffee machine where Stiles had already brewed him a pot. “Everyone’s going mad. It’s probably because the full moon’s coming on soon.”

And with _that_ friendly reminder his dad sat down at the table, looking at his breakfast with an eagerness that was both endearing and kind of pitiful. No one could deny that they were related at that moment, food was their everything. Stiles shoved a mouthful of egg into his mouth and talked around it- one of his many talents. “Have you got anything new on that missing body in the woods?”

Naturally, his dad responded with his well used line of: “You know I can’t talk about cases.”

But Stiles had just been prompting, and he searched through the information that surfaced in his dad’s mind. There wasn’t anything interesting, they’d still yet to ID the _lower_ half of the body that the PD had found, but they had ID’d the hair that was found on it as something animal, canis lupine probably.

He should probably tell Derek about the developments, as awkward as a topic it would be to bring up. “That’s cool dad. You’ll let me see the files though, right? Because I’m the best son in the whole wide world and you ‘wuv’ me lots and lots?”

The sheriff just levelled him with a look that both said ‘really?’ and ‘keep talking. I dare you.’ Stiles shut his mouth and finished chewing, because he did have _some_ self preservation instincts thank you very much, but then couldn’t stop himself from blurting, “Do you still have the case files on the Hale fire, and on the survivors?”

Why the hell does he wanna know about that? His dad cut into a bit of turkey bacon, looking kind of aggrieved as though it was a great burden on him to be eating such a poor substitute of proper pork. “If I did you wouldn’t be able to take a look at them. A case that old ought to stay quiet, if something came up for it now a lot of people would be very unhappy.” Such a tragedy. Those poor kids. A memory flashed in his dad’s mind, Derek Hale being helped into the back of a squad car as his dad drove him away from the flaming wreckage of his home.

The image made Stiles give up on his dream of beating the food league and he shoved his plate away. “Makes sense. Are there a lot of cases like that? Where things happen and sometimes you don’t solve them? In Beacon Hills, I mean… It’s not like our town’s crime rate is anything to look at.”

“You’d be surprised,” he says, and then; “Got anything going on at school today? Think you’ll have time for hanging out on saturday, or too many assignments?”

Bless his dad for knowing how to change topics. “Nothing much, probably another pop quiz. My chem teacher seems to love pop quizzes, he’s an evil mastermind- I tell you. But no I shouldn’t get any new assignments ‘till after our exams.”

“Sounds good. How about we make that heart-healthy lasagna and sit down and watch some Walking Dead?” Stiles knew that he’d end up being the one to cook the lasagna, because his dad should _never_ be allowed to use the stove ever again. Not after the great scrambled eggs debacle of ‘09. But Stiles still loved the fact that he and his dad had a total connection, they were totally in sync because that was exactly what Stiles felt like doing that weekend. Eating good food and laughing at stupid zombies with his father.

Stiles grinned, tempted to hug his dad and give him another ‘World’s best dad’ mug to add to his ever growing collection. “Yeah. I’d like that. It feels like it’s been way too long since we last hung out. You’re job needs to be introduced to the wonders of netflix.”

His dad grinned and patted his shoulder as he stood to clear their plates, “Sometimes I worry about you, kiddo.”

“Nah, you love me.” Stiles beamed brightly at the sheriff, it was so nice to have his dad in the same space, his thoughts bringing a comforting normality to the wildness the past two days had been. “You’re not going back into work, are you?”

“More like back into bed.” The sheriff ruffled Stiles’ hair- which for the record, Stiles didn’t mind much- but he complained anyway. “Wake me up when you get home, I have the afternoon shift.”

Then he was gone, thoughts traveling with him as he stepped upstairs.

Stiles smiled fondly before getting up to get ready for school. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t running late- too many late nights watching Heroes, but now he could dress without rushing and it felt good. Felt like he was in control when in fact, his life was turning into a John Landis horror movie. He stopped by his dad’s bedroom to listen in, picked up on the mulled thoughts of sleep and was satisfied enough. When he ambled back downstairs, grabbing his keys and twirling the ring around his pointer finger, he nearly dropped them in shock when he opened the front door.

Derek. Fucking. Hale was waiting for him, leaning against his Camaro, looking like a total sex-God with his aviator Ray-Ban’s and his arms crossed in a way that made his biceps bulge.

How many times could Stiles die at the sight of Derek Hale before he _actually_ died?

Stiles, Derek greeted, acknowledging him with a simple glance, but a friendly-yet-still-grouchy mental hello. Seriously, the guy needed to loosen up. Stiles wondered how many bro-bonding sessions they’d have to had before he chilled. “Get in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> As usual, comment if you want more :) You guys have been kicking ass with the support though so thank you :)


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